Untitled nonsense for sensible souls mind-raped senseless.

Untitled nonsense

For sensible souls

who are mind-raped

senseless.

+++++++++++++

Writing poetic

Fictions across the

Walls of my heart

in shiT...

and it

Smells like weeping

Roses doesn't it?

the kind that cry

for desperate causes

The world praises.

(then forgets.)

but

If

I bled for you

would you still

Love me in the

Morning?

I have the

Razor in my

Mouth old flame!!

and will spit

Without

a

Warning.

(thoughmy
anti-hero

shit
Gets lame.)

×

Writing living fictions

Across the walls
Of

My Better-Off-Dead;

It tries to breathe

still doesn't it?

(This ghost of
You

Within My Head.)

J.Stephen.H.